4 - Alpha Omega Alpha

Marat’s daily rants against the aristocracy earned
him the disdain of the privileged and the adoration of
the poor. “To pretend to please everyone is mad,” 2p734 he
wrote. His allegiances to the Jacobins were well known.
He hated the monarchy, and his rhetoric against the
throne galvanized the rebellion.
In the years following the storming of the Bastille
in 1789, anarchy descended on Paris. With the deposition
and capture of Louis XVI in 1792, the notion of a
constitutional monarchy was quickly abandoned and the
hope of a republic spread through Paris. During this unstable
time, the balance of power shifted from the failed
Legislative Assembly to the Paris Commune, a body composed
not of politicians, but of the working class. Many of
the delegates were members of France’s most unpredictable
faction, the “sans- culottes.” The term meant “without
culottes,” the knee breeches worn by the privileged. The
Paris Commune wielded merciless authority and had no
more vocal leader than Jean-Paul Marat.
1792—Purge of
counterrevolutionaries by the
Paris Commune
The revolutionary government survived an early threat
in September 1792. With the Prussian army marching on
Paris, and faced with insurrection at home by those loyal
to the imprisoned king, the Commune sought to rid the
city of any trace of “counterrevolution.” Thousands of
the accused were arrested, imprisoned, and beheaded
on charges of rebellion during the bloody September
Massacres. Others were set free, only to be raped, castrated,
or disemboweled at the hands of mob violence.
Hearts were ripped from the chests of men and eaten.
The head of Princesse de Lambelle, the maid of honor
to Marie Antoinette, was placed on a pike and paraded
beneath the temple fortress where the royal family was
held captive. Blame for these atrocities rested with no
single man, but reputation placed the crimes at the feet
of Marat.
Marat’s newpaper—its appeal
to the poor commoners
Marat’s influence began simply. In early September
1789, he initiated publication of a newspaper that became
Jacques Louis David (1748–1825): Jean Paul Marat, politician
and publicist, dead in his bathtub, assassinated by Charlotte
Corday in 1793. Oil on canvas, 165 x 128 cm.
Location: Louvre, Paris, France. Photo credit: Erich Lessing/Art Resource, NY.
his signature in Paris, L’Ami du Peuple. It was here,
among the common soldiers of the French Revolution,
that he finally found the acceptance he sought. The paper
was controversial from its first issue, marrying philosophical
and political doctrine with violence, suspicion,
and conspiracy. Marat openly denounced France’s most
prominent men as traitors based on presumption:
In order to judge men, you always need proof positive,
clear, and precise. For me, their inaction or their silence
on great occasions is sufficient. In order to believe in
a conspiracy, you demand judicial evidence; for me, it
is enough to see the general course of events, the relationships
between enemies of liberty, the comings and
goings of certain agents of power. 6p158
Not surprisingly, Marat found himself with few political
allies. Attempts were made to weaken his influence by
the circulation of false L’Amis with exaggerated diatribes
and bloodthirsty language. Ironically, Marat attacked
these spurious writings as being too tame to be his own.
Cut off the thumbs of the aristocrats who conspire
against you, split the tongues of the priests who have
preached servitude.
To secure the public tranquility two hundred thousand
heads should be cut off. 5pxxii
This rhetoric did not go unnoticed, and Marat fled to
London. His subsequent return to Paris found four journals
in circulation claiming to be his L’Ami. Undeterred,
Marat wrote “I warn honest men not to play with the
‘People’s Friend,’ any more, as he is never likely to be their
dupe.” 7p26
Marat’s blistering, pruritic,
painful skin disease—what
was it?
I saw him at one time address himself to Louvet; and, in
doing so, he attempted to lay his hand on Louvet’s shoulder,
who instantly started back with looks of aversion,
as one would do from the touch of a noxious reptile,
exclaiming, “Ne me touchez pas!” (“Don’t touch me!”)
—John Moore 8p389
Marat’s journalism was a clandestine affair. Though
he was well known throughout France, the location
of his publishing house changed often and was kept
secret from his political enemies. Several times he was
forced to abandon his publication for fear of arrest. He
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